Return of the Pirate King
by Aaron Netsky
Summary: When the Black Pearl needs a new captain, Mr. Gibbs seeks out the Pirate King: Elizabeth Swann.


Elizabeth returned from the printer as resolute as ever but as disappointed as always. She knew she had a great story to tell, great and true and exciting, but she'd known the true part wouldn't matter to a man who'd not seen it happen, and the great and exciting aspects were dwarfed by the fact that she was a woman and therefore, in the eyes of the printer, incapable of having written anything even worth considering.

And to think of all the money she had given his master when she'd devoured pirate stories as a girl. She was the perfect person to get these stories from: a former fan.

She stopped near the door to the blacksmith's shop. Will would be finishing his work for the day by this time, and she knew he would not want to be disturbed. He relished the quiet, solitary life they had retired to since his curse had been lifted. Elizabeth did not. She walked around back and ascended the creaky wooden stairs to their apartment over the shop. Will would know she was home from the sound without her having interrupted his work.

The apartment was small, just two rooms, a main room and a bedroom. They could afford more, but what would they have done with it? Plus, Will had an affection for the old place. She thought of the mansion she had grown up in when she had been the belle of Port Royal, the governor's daughter. This lifestyle was infinitely preferable: more freedom, more comfortable clothes. She'd have chosen it even if her father hadn't died. Though as she put her rejected manuscript on the table, she thought that her options were just as limited as an anonymous woman nearing 50-years-old as they had been when she was a debutante. And she had already done the marriage part.

How exciting her wedding had been. Torrential rain. Sword fighting. Fish people. Elizabeth smiled at the memory. It had been what the whole saga had been about, marrying Will, a simple gesture that had faced unprecedented obstacles. And her first reaction to his saying they should do it right then and there had been, "I don't think now is the best time!"

It had been the best time, and it was a very different time. And while Will had been content to return to a quiet life of blacksmithing and Henry, their son, had gone to help fight some war in North America, writing to her every week so she knew he was okay, Elizabeth feared her time had passed her by in a spray of sea water.

She heard Will tromping up the stairs and turned to greet him. His footsteps were the sort she would once have identified as coming from a cursed pirate, but she knew better. That was just how he stepped after a long day of blacksmithing.

As he entered, though, she did get a thrill of déjà vu. He turned himself sideways and led with a sword. The paunch he'd developed since forgoing life at sea made it somewhat comical, but she didn't laugh, just smiled.

"Parley," she said.

"As you wish," he returned, and for a moment she dared to hope this might lead them back down the road to the sea, but she knew better. Will hadn't been on the water in five years, and neither had she.

"A new sword?" she asked, as though it were possible that he might be brandishing one of his swords that could be considered old. His swords were purchased almost as soon as they were finished, and shipped all around the world.

"The finest sword I've ever made," Will said, brandishing it. He knew Elizabeth missed the life at sea much more than he did, so he offered what remembrances of it he could.

"You say that about every sword."

"Not every. Most are exactly the same as the one that came before them. This one is special. It's art. There is a message engraved on the side of the blade. Would you like to read it?"

"I've had enough of reading for the day, if you want to read it to me," Elizabeth said, moving to close the door Will had left open in his display. It was starting to rain. It would be very muddy in the morning.

"Another rejection," Will said, lowering the sword and noticing the manuscript on the table. "They don't know what they're missing."

"They do, they just don't care. Tell me what it says on the sword, I do want to know, my eyes are just in no mood to discern an engraving."

"It says, 'The arms are fair, when the intent of bearing them is just.'"

Elizabeth looked up. "Shakespeare. Well chosen."

"And on the handle, well, another engraving. This one you don't have to read."

He gently grabbed the blade and flipped the sword so the handle was facing Elizabeth. Not the sort of show he had once been capable of, but she took the blade with a slight curtsey, answering the implied pageantry.

She looked closely at the handle. The image was of a swan landing in a lake, with other swans in the distance, and a few trees sprinkled around. Everything was intricately detailed, leaves and feathers, waves and ripples, though the blank parts of the surface were smooth and cold to the touch.

"This is remarkable, Will. I didn't know you could do this."

"I've been studying it. In secret. Spice up the old trade. This is my first real fully incorporated piece. More for display than use, probably. It's a tribute to you."

Elizabeth's eyes welled up and she smiled to keep her tears at bay. She looked at the blade. The letters were in a flowing script, not block letters as she had imagined when he had said it was engraved.

"I've…I'm…." She couldn't think what to say.

"You're what it's all been for," Will said, taking the sword back and putting it on the mantle over the fireplace. "Not sure, yet, if I'll sell it. But it sets a new standard for my work."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and put an arm around her husband as they looked at the sword. "What it's all been for," he'd said. For a long time, she'd felt the same way. More and more, though, she was realizing that he had been both a catalyst and a distraction.

It must have been well past midnight when Elizabeth was awoken by a familiar tromping up the stairs to their apartment. She stared at the ceiling briefly trying to figure out why Will had gone out at so late an hour and was now returning. As her mind continued to emerge from the fog of sleep, she registered that Will was sleeping beside her, his arm around her as it usually was. The tromping must be someone else.

And this time it really might be pirates. She listened. There were three sets of footsteps, possibly more. They were almost at the top.

Old instincts, dormant for years, kicked in. She sprang out of bad, hissing, "Will," into the darkness, just loud enough that he woke up, but there was no time to explain. She practically leapt into the main room, grabbed Will's engraved sword from the mantle, and pointed it at the door. The tromping stopped just outside of it. She was ready for them to break it down. Will appeared at the threshold of the bedroom. There were no other swords in the apartment, but she was sure he could find something. Anything could be used to fight a pirate, she had found.

There was a knock at the door.

Elizabeth was silent. Will crept toward her, but stayed behind her and didn't try to take the sword. He was afraid. They both glared at the door, just a bit confused. If these were pirates, they were very polite. There was another knock at the door.

"Who's there?" Will called.

"Joshamee Gibbs and a few of me crewmates. Ye know us, Mr. Turner, Miss Swann."

"Why have you come here?" Elizabeth called, her voice firm and commanding.

"A proposition of sorts," Mr. Gibbs called back. "Rather not shout it from either side of a door. May we come in?"

Drawing the sword closer to her, Elizabeth moved toward the door. Will caught her and tried to hold her back.

"We don't have to," he whispered, "they might go away."

Elizabeth shook him off and went to the door, unlatching the lock. After a moment's hesitation, she opened it.

"'ello, poppet."

Elizabeth raised the sword again.

"Parley, Miss Swann. He's been on our side for a long while yet."

"'at's just 'ow I greet people."

"Just 'ow 'e greets people."

"I couldn't come on shore alone, these two volunteered. May we come in?"

Elizabeth moved aside, and Pintel, Ragetti, and Mr. Gibbs entered. They were all dripping wet from the rain, and Will wished there were something other than the wooden floor for them to drip on. He lit a candle, so they could all see each other better. Familiar as they were, he still didn't trust them.

Ragetti now wore a patch over his empty eye socket, but otherwise he looked the same as when they had last seen him, lanky, short blond hair, patchy beard. Pintel looked the same as well, though with more gray in what hair he had left on his head and his beard. He had gotten a bit fatter. Both wore ragged, grungy clothes.

Mr. Gibbs had gone completely white and his beard was now down to his chest, though his hair was still relatively short. He now walked on one real leg and one peg leg, and sported a long black coat over a pristine white shirt. He took off a leather three cornered hat as he entered the apartment.

"If this has anything to do with Jack Sparrow, we're not interested," Elizabeth said firmly. Will looked at her, slightly troubled by her condition concerning their interest.

"Alas, it is part of the reason we've come. Captain Jack is dead. I mean really dead. Ain't no comin' back for him, this time."

"What happened?" Elizabeth sounded almost disappointed, and again Will felt a pang of worry, though he said nothing.

"Something it's not polite to talk about. The point is, and I may as well get straight to it, the Black Pearl needs a captain."

"I've had my fill of captaining pirate ships," Will said, finally stepping from behind Elizabeth.

"Yes, that seems about right, after what you've been through. But we didn't come to ask you. We come to ask Miss Swann."

"It's Mrs….Turner now."

"That's almost exactly what you said when it was…when we first met ye."

Elizabeth ignored Ragetti. She put the sword on the table on top of her manuscript. "Why me? Aren't you the first mate? Can't you just…ascend?"

"Never been captain material, Miss…Mrs. Turner. I'm much better at relayin' orders and makin' sure the captain keeps his head. It's a special skill set."

"Couldn't someone else on the crew just…" Elizabeth didn't finish. She felt reluctant to keep offering alternatives to her agreeing to become their captain. She wondered why. Will was starting to understand everything she wasn't saying.

"There was an initial scuffle, and there will be if we return without ye. But when I suggested that the Pirate King take command…there's still some reverence for the code."

"Surely a new king's been elected in the time since I was."

"Ah, don't you remember the issue with that. Everyone always votes for hisself, or herself. No one ever gets elected. 'Cept for you, because Jack broke with tradition. Might have been the most brilliant thing he ever did. Or the stupidest. It's really hard to say with him. But ye are still the Pirate King, and we'd be honoured if you'd captain our ship."

Elizabeth seemed on the verge of agreeing. Will stepped in.

"Mr. Gibbs, I've heard you say often that it's bad luck to have a woman on board."

"Aye, so I have said that, and often. And more often, she's proved me dangerously wrong. I figure it's more a guideline than an actual rule. Like most things. What do you say, Miss…Mrs…"

"Just call me Elizabeth, it's easier. May I have some time to think about it?"

"Of course," Mr. Gibbs said, with a slight bow of his head. "We'll wait just below the stairs out there. It's raining, so I hope it won't take you too long. And we'd like to leave town before too many people wake up."

"I'll be as quick as I can," Elizabeth said, and they left.

It was a moment before Elizabeth and Will spoke to each other. They were both thinking the same thing, but neither wanted to be the first to say it.

Finally, Elizabeth said, without looking at Will, "You could come, too. Work with Mr. Gibbs. Be second mate."

"My days at sea are over with, Elizabeth. You know that."

Now she turned to face him. "Must mine be as well? You had twenty years on the Dutchman. Twenty years, while I waited on shore and raised our son. Now he's off on his own adventure, you've got your craft. I can't do anything here. Nothing that I want to do. I can't even tell my story to the masses, because I can't get it printed. I want to go back…out there."

"I know," Will said.

"You do?"

"I've known since we settled here. I've known since we were at sea together. Since before, even. You were always meant to be…a pirate."

"How have you…"

"We grew up together, Miss Sw….Elizabeth. Not in the same house, of course, but we saw each other. Knew each other. You always had the pirate books with you. You always hummed the song. I was watching, and listening. When we were forced to join them, to fight…you were never happier. I'd never seen you happier. I'd never seen you so…right where you were meant to be."

"We were fighting to be together."

"Oh, and that worked out perfectly, didn't it?" Will laughed. "Our reward for all our hard work. Yes, we got married, but then had two days together for the first twenty years. And do you know what? We survived. And we'll survive if you go out again. I've hoped for five years you'd adjust to this life that I was returning to. I don't think you ever did."

Elizabeth started to cry. "It feels wrong to leave you. Right to go, but wrong to leave you."

"Almost like being cursed, I suppose," Will said with a grin. "But in your case, it's something that you want. You have me. You'll always have me. You should have this, too. I'll be okay, like you were."

"I had company."

"I've got my art now. It takes a long time to engrave something on a sword. I won't be without something to sooth my missing you. Not that I could ever forget you."

"Nor I you." Elizabeth drew Will into a tight embrace. He returned it, patting her back reassuringly.

Neither knew how long they stayed like that, but when they came apart, Will knew what he had to do.

"To make sure you come back in one piece, I want you to take this." He picked up the sword from the table, did a fancy little flip with it, and offered it to her, hilt first.

"But that's…that should never see battle…"

"And so I hope it doesn't. But in case you find yourself in trouble, it also works as a weapon. One, if I recall, you know how to handle."

Elizabeth took the sword from him, holding it up. The words flashed by in the candlelight.

"I shall try to do this sword justice," Elizabeth said.

"I can think of no one more worthy of it."

Elizabeth lowered the sword and reached out to Will. He took her hand.

"Are you sure you'll be alright."

"More alright than I'll be knowing I was the reason you didn't do this."

She tightened her grip on his hand, stepped closer, and kissed him. He closed his eyes at the touch of her lips and didn't open them again until he heard the door close behind her. Her coat was gone.

"Come back more than every ten years, my love."


End file.
